Unmasked
by Nymm-Kirimoto
Summary: He hadn't meant to see his comrade without his mask. Hoody & Masky Friendship fic.


The man (or Masky as others had come to call him. He gladly accepted the moniker, as the thought of naming himself had never so much as crossed his mind,) had never seen his partners face. The hooded man had refused to show him, "In case you're caught", but it still left Masky curious. He knew his partner had learned far more about their situation than he had, and that he denied to give him all his knowledge. With the constant threat of capture by that thing and it's toy, everything was on a need to know basis. He understood this, but it didn't make his ignorance any easier.

Despite that, this had been an accident.

Masky had been looking for his, well to be perfectly honest (and a bit reluctant), friend, requiring his help with their latest "response". The full moon's light filled the cement building, glinting off years worth of shattered glass, illuminating the dark haired man who had strode inside from the threatening presence of the forest outside. Illuminating the white mask he wore, with its black ink smile, which the face beneath didn't mirror. The only sound was the creaking of the old-growth trees as a frigid wind blew through them, making the man wrap his tan jacket tighter around himself. His feet didn't make a sound as he delicately stepped over old wooden beams, carefully avoiding anything that could crunch underfoot. Years of practice had taught him how to move silently, catlike, with grace that didn't quite match his stocky frame. At first it had taken effort, but now he did it without even thinking.

He resisted the urge to call out for his partner, instead sweeping his host's chocolate brown eyes over the abandoned room, looking for the familiar faded yellow hoodie, or a glimpse of the black balaclava with its stitched frown. These woods were dangerous, especially at night, as everyone involved with this affair had learned.

There was still one place in this section of Rosswood he hadn't searched. Masky turned the corner into the smaller room sectioned off from the rest of the cinder block building. Light poured in from a large, glassless window, making a bright square on the floor, that shined on part of the large dirty mattress that the hooded man and occasionally Masky, when he had control over his host for an extended time, (reluclently) slept. The moonlight also hit the shoulder of a man wearing a slightly ragged hoodie that had once been sunshine yellow, who held a piece of black cloth in his hand, and was greedily gulping down the contents of a plastic water bottle, the plastic crunching in his hand.

Underneath the cheap plastic mask, the ebony haired man felt his eyes widen. His partner had a face he had seen somewhere before. Wavy, tangled brown hair reached his jaw, looking like it had been hastily chopped short with a pair of scissors. Square features, probably considered handsome once upon a time, before all this, now had their the skin pulled tight over the bones of the man's face, gaunt from a life of stealing and scavenging for his next meal and constant worry, and a broad jaw with a short, poorly maintained beard. Despite his gauntness, Masky felt a surge of recognition not his own. Brian. With the name came a torrent of unfamiliar emotions not belonging to him.

Masky stepped back, trying to slink away, ready to ignore the revelation of his comrade's identity before it caused his host regain rightfull control once more. Broken glass crunched, shattering under the heel of his boot and Brian's head snapped his way, looking for all the world like a deer in the headlights. The amount of emotion in his face surprised Masky. His friend had always taken care to appear cold and calculating, though that mask in particular had slipped many times once the immediate danger had passed.

"Brian?"

The man in question nodded, the surprise on his features fading. "Yeah. I-It's me."

The masked man padded over to the mattress and sat down next to his team mate, who was nervously tugging at his balaclava. Masky gently pulled the ghostly white mask from his face, revealing the thick eyebrows and slightly hooked nose that didn't belong to him. His friend had long since learned the identity of the man working with him, but now that Masky knew his host had been friends with his companion... he didn't know what he felt about that. Thoughts like that could wait.

None the less, the sight of his old friend's face seemed to put Brian at ease. Masky saw the corners of his comrade's mouth twitch, and Masky felt his lips mirror the man next to him. Brian sighed and buried his face in his hands, the tension flooding out of his shoulders.

"How we'd even get here? We were going to grow up to be rich and famous. Alex was going to be 'the best director the world had ever seen'. Heh. I was going to be an actor. I guess I am," Brian whispered, and let out a harsh, joyless laugh. "And Tim was going to get better. Going to finally find his place in this world."

"But now he's not himself, and sitting in the middle of dangerous woods with an old college buddy who he thinks is dead," Masky mumured.

Masky noticed the tears leaking down Brian's face. He made no comment, ignoring his own tears dripping off of his chin. Their lives really were turning into a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare himself.

The now-unmasked man felt a warm weight rest on his shoulder, Brian's hair tickling his jaw. Masky placed a calloused hand on his friends back, rubbing comforting circles into his shaking shoulders.

What were they going to do with themselves?


End file.
